


Impassion :: Broken and Crushed

by pretense



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Well, bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Bleach much less any of the characters used in this story. Bleach (C) Kubo Tite
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5659529/1/Impassion_Broken_and_Crushed).

The copper smell of blood filled his nostrils a split second before he identified the spiritual pressure flowing from just around the corner. He stopped in his tracks, intuition infallible, finding the Sexta Espada turning the corner and moving towards him – but there was something wrong, something was… _lacking_ from his characteristic haughty gait. Curious, but certainly of no great concern to him. He was quite ready to resume his walk and ignore the inferior Espada when it registered that his feet were rooted to the floor, guarded eyes drawn to the splatter of blood that stained the Sexta's left shoulder and arm… or what had been left of it, at least.

His usual silence – piercing and deadly and indifferent – turned into one of shocked stupor. It was beyond discourtesy but somehow, he just couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight; he can’t stop _seeing_.

Grimmjow had lost the whole of his left arm.

He never noticed when the aqua-haired Arrancar had stopped advancing but at the moment, both of them were immobile, facing each other in one of the many, many halls of Aizen's palace. Unreadable expressions were on both faces and neither one dared to break the silence.

The sound of blood dripping to the floor was magnified in the silence and it almost felt like he had cringed at the intrusive noise.

A leer found its way to Grimmjow's lips when his superior’s stare - unwavering as ever – latched onto his damaged limb, dark brows furrowed in an attempt to appear unfazed by the obvious mutilation of his arm.

"What the fuck's with that look? Ya ain't scared of blood now, are ya?" Grimmjow jeered, channeling his hatred on Tousen towards the other.

At that, bright jade eyes finally tore their gaze away from the bleeding shoulder, locking gazes instead with a fiery sapphire pair. But not before he saw the unsightly gash against the taller man's abdomen as well as the crimson stain going down the left side of his face.

"You got what you deserved, Sexta," came the curt reply, it didn't take a genius to figure out exactly what had transpired. "You deliberately disobeyed Aizen-sama's orders…"

"Tsch. Like I have time to hear you preach right now, ya little shit." Grimmjow scowled, taking a step forward, moving to pass the smaller Arrancar when the latter called to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" inquired his superior in a cold tone, their backs now facing each other.

"To my fucking room," spat the Sexta as he lifted a foot to move on. Damn it, he was already tired enough as it is; with his bleeding shoulder further dampening his mood, he didn't need the scrawny bastard to give him another fucking sermon right now…

"You're bleeding."

Pantera's wielder scoffed at that, "As if I don't know that already, Captain Obvious. The trail of blood behind me can fucking speak for itself, can't it?"

"You need to go to the infirmary."

Canines were exposed as Grimmjow's mouth paused in speech, his sharp retort dying in his throat as the other's words filled his ears. In spite of himself, Grimmjow turned around, sending more of his blood to stain the walls and floor as he eyed the dark-haired Espada with a disbelieving look.

"The fuck?"

The pale face turned sideways for jade orbs to meet the blue-eyed stare. "I don't believe you have any idea on dressing wounds, Sexta. Head for the infirmary if you have any sense left in you."

Reading the statement as yet another insult to his being, Grimmjow snarled. "I don't need those medics. It'll practically be like asking  _Szayel_  to nurse this bleeding shit."

"If you have any respect left for yourself, then you'd know that it's more practical for you to head to the infirmary."

"Just shut the fuck up, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow snapped, turning away and breaking eye-contact. "I don't fucking need you looking down on me."

With that, the Sexta marched off, more droplets of blood settling in his wake.

Meanwhile, black-painted fingernails dug into the palms of pale hands, hidden from view as they were shoved into the pockets of the loose-fitting hakama.

_You were always the most difficult one to deal with._

Echoes filled the four walls as the thick door was slammed shut. The sapphire-eyed Espada stomped his way across the room, plunking down on his still unmade bed which was set against the farthest wall. A crimson trail followed his steps, staining the pure white everything that he made contact with.

Grimmjow eyed his left shoulder with much repugnance, gritting his teeth as another drop of red fell onto the white sheets. With a growl, the aqua-haired Espada used his remaining hand to grab his jacket and rip it off of himself, throwing the ruined piece of clothing onto the floor. His eyes were directed at his bleeding shoulder again. Damn it.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Damn Shinigami. Damn Tousen. Damn Aizen. Damn that fucking Ulquiorra.

The damage from the shinigami was minimal; it was his dismembered arm that pissed him off. Moreover, coming across the Cuatro Espada in such a state only intensified his anger. Gin must have been manipulating the hallways again. That conniving bastard.

His thoughts were halted at the sudden and prompt knocks at his door. Grimmjow gave the slab a menacing stare, as though hoping that whoever it was on the other side would get a hint and fuck off. No such luck, however, as the knocking was only repeated. And this time, a call accompanied the knocks.

"Grimmjow-sama, please open the door."

It was a voice that the Espada didn't recognize. And from what spiritual pressure that he could feel, the Arrancar seemed to be neither Fraccion nor Espada. Grumbling, and in no mood for any further disruptions, Grimmjow stood up and marched over to his door. He opened it with excessive force, glaring down with full intensity at the figure outside.

"What the fuck do you want?" the Sexta snapped not even caring that he was shirtless, thus exposing all his wounds.

The Arrancar outside was female with a human skull encasing half of her face, in front of her was a trolley with five levels that reached up to her waist. She donned a long-sleeved dress that ended a few inches above her ankle.

The Espada's frown widened at his assessment.

She was a medic.

"Grimmjow-sama, allow me to dress up your wounds." The medic spoke humbly, eyes trained on the trolley before her.

"That bastard Ulquiorra," Grimmjow cussed, glaring ever harder at the lowly Arrancar. "I don't need your shit, understand? So just fuck off. I don't give a damn whatever that shitty Cuatro told you to do. Fuck. Off."

And the door was promptly slammed shut in the medic's face.

Grimmjow had just turned around when the door was opened. With his fury reaching its boiling point, the aqua-haired Espada unsheathed Pantera and meant to just slice the little bitch in half only for the blade to be stopped by two slender fingers.

Sapphire eyes widened by a fraction as the black-tipped digits held against the force of his attack. Cool green eyes stared up at him with something akin to an admonishing look as the pale hand lowered the blade away from his face.

"Has all logic really escaped you, Sexta?" the Cuatro Espada asked as the inferior Espada jammed Pantera back into the sheath strapped against his waist.

"Fuck you," Grimmjow spat, his right hand still gripping the handle of his sword. "Stop acting like a wiseass, Ulquiorra! And don't you fucking stick your nose in my business! Now get out of my sight! And take that stupid medic with you!"

Ulquiorra only closed his eyes in the duration of the Sexta's rant, opening them with a sigh once the other was done. He locked gazes with the muscular Espada before slowly raising his right arm and setting the pale hand against the still-bleeding shoulder; fingertips resting in a feather light manner upon the raw flesh.

If Grimmjow had found the Cuatro's action painful, his face didn't show a trace of it; a seething look was still his mien.

Taking a step forward, rendering the distance between them a mere foot, Ulquiorra delicately pressed a finger onto the exposed flesh. At the sudden pressure, more blood oozed from Grimmjow's stump of a shoulder, trailing down the porcelain hand, bringing crimson tracks near the edge of his equally pristine uniform.

With a quick widening of the eyes and a minute grit of the teeth, the Sexta Espada breathed hard and finally broke his silence.

"What. The Hell. Are. You. Fucking. Doing?" Grimmjow growled, low and menacing.

"Emphasizing my point of your need for medication." Ulquiorra replied in monotone, mildly pressing his palm against the other's open wound.

The soft  _squish_  sound of the increased contact only made Grimmjow furrow his brows even further.

"This is fucking stupid," the Sexta stated, grabbing the pale wrist and forcefully removing his superior's hand from himself.

"Says he who unreasonably allows himself to bleed," countered Ulquiorra, his tone implying no tolerance for nonsense.

Grimmjow was not one to admit defeat. Ever. But although he hated to admit it, the Cuatro had a point – a very solid one at that – and so, with a great show of reluctance, Grimmjow released his grip on his superior's wrist and stepped aside for the medic to come in.

Plunking down on the edge of his bed, Grimmjow wore his widest scowl as Ulquiorra stepped into his room, closely followed by the medic who had her head bowed.

As the lowly Arrancar started to work on the injured Espada's wounds, the dark-haired Cuatro stood like a shadow against a far wall – his bloodstained hand untouched by his side, warm blood catching on his fingertips like water waiting to turn into icicles.

Long minutes passed in almost lethal silence until finally, the medic secured the last of the bandages, fixed up her trolley and bowed before leaving the room. The air seemed to grow even thicker once the concrete door slid shut, isolating two of Aizen's prized Espada.

"Well? Sapphire eyes narrowed as they gazed pointedly at the pale figure against the whitewashed wall. "What the fuck are you still doing here?"

Green eyes shining in the darkness flickered to meet the Sexta's gaze. "I was just seeing to it that the medic did her job properly."

"Well, she already fucking left," Grimmjow pointed out harshly.

Choosing not to honor the other's statement with a reply, Ulquiorra left the wall and moved to stand right in front of the inferior Espada.

"You should really stop acting so recklessly, Sexta." With that said, the Cuatro turned around and made his way to the door.

"Oi! Your hand…"

Smooth steps halted by a sudden call, Ulquiorra brought up his hand, finding crisscrossing tracks of Grimmjow's blood against the stark _hierro_. Sensing something being thrown at him, the dark-haired Arrancar stepped to the left and caught the object with his right hand; a brow rose once he realized that he was now holding the Sexta's ripped up jacket.

"At least wipe off the shit." Grimmjow's voice came, his tone suggesting much displeasure at even saying that statement.

Taking a sidelong glance, jade eyes found the aqua-haired Espada glaring at the pillows on his bed. A corner of the black and white lips turned up in the slightest as Ulquiorra did wipe off the blood on his hand onto the ruined jacket.

With his hand spotless once more, Ulquiorra resumed his exit, dropping the soiled jacket into a chute by the door.

Grimmjow finally raised his head as he heard the door to his room sliding close once again, catching a glimpse of the shadow of a smile playing on the Cuatro's lips.

_You know I hate it when I can't understand what you're thinking._

"Yes, Aizen-sama," came the usual humble answer as the Cuatro kept his head bowed, weight supported by his left knee and right foot on the cold floor.

"Very well, you may go ahead and carry out your task, Ulquiorra." The ex-Shinigami Captain ordered, sitting regally in his throne. His chocolate eyes shining as a mirthless smile stretched across his benevolent mien.

"Of course." Finally getting permission to leave, Ulquiorra lost no time in sonido-ing out of the room.

He soon reappeared in a long and dark hallway, at the end of which was tall door from where a white rectangle of light passed through. He made his way towards the room in a leisurely pace, feeling the bursts of spiritual pressure that coming from the far-off chamber. Upon reaching the high doorframe he merely stood there for a moment, jade eyes watching as his fellow Espada wreaked havoc in the room, an unsheathed blade slicing across everything it came into contact with - the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Roars of fury echoed in the room as the Sexta seemed to run amok, slashing even thin air as he ricocheted off every surface, the unrolled left sleeve of his jacket fluttering uselessly.

Concluding that he had wasted enough time, Ulquiorra stepped into the room, making his presence known to the other who had stopped in his rampage and neatly dropped onto the floor in front of his superior.

"The hell are you doing here now, Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow snarled, breathing hard as he glowered down at the smaller Arrancar.

Impassively eyeing the layers of sweat that trailed down the Sexta's well-exposed body, Ulquiorra noted how much warmer it seemed to become with the blue-eyed Espada in close proximity.

"Aizen-sama has given me orders…" the ebony-haired Espada stated softly.

"So?" the impatience in the Sexta's voice was clear as day that Hueco Mundo never experiences.

"… It is to inform you, Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez," Ulquiorra met the hard gaze coming down at him evenly, "That you have been demoted from the Espada."

The look on Grimmjow's face hardened, the jaw structure over his cheek grating together with his scowl upon hearing the news. "What the fuck did you say?"

"A new Sexta Espada has been appointed," Ulquiorra added, unfazed by the anger burning in the sapphire eyes glowering at him. "He would be occupying your room starting tomorrow; Aizen-sama had suggested that you vacate your quarters as soon as possible."

The tanned Espada was now shaking with rage, his grip on Pantera was making his knuckles turn white and with a loud cry of great ire, Grimmjow turned and threw his sword across the room – embedding the weapon into the far wall. The force of his throw sent a great pressure against the pasty walls, making them crack with debris helplessly flying away. As if the room needed any more demolition.

With the now ex-Espada's back turned to him, Ulquiorra was faced with the gothic six tattooed on the right side of Grimmjow's hollow hole.

"Your tattoo…" the Cuatro murmurs, causing the taller Arrancar to face him once more.

"What?" Grimmjow asks irately.

"Your tattoo would have to be removed." Murcielago's wielder clarified as twin blue orbs narrowed at him. "Since you are no longer part of the Espada, it will be pointless for you to carry the mark of your lost ranking…"

"Fuck you,” the seething Arrancar spat out, his remaining hand clenched tightly in an effort to retain some control.

In the blink of an eye, Ulquiorra was gone, reappearing behind the demoted Espada and grabbing the latter by the wrist. A split second later, the two turn up along the left side wall; the aqua-haired Arrancar stood face first against the concrete. The Cuatro pressed onto Grimmjow’s back, with the latter’s only arm sandwiched between them.

Huffing, Grimmjow turns his head to the side, the jawbones cutting uncomfortably into his right cheek as he snapped at the oppressive Espada, "Fuck you, Ulquiorra."

Half-lidded eyes gazed over the taller Arrancar's shoulder, raising his lips to the other's ear, intoning, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way…"

"Get off–!" Grimmjow struggled to push off the smaller Arrancar to no avail.

A sigh passed between thin lips as the dark-haired Espada used his left hand to keep Grimmjow's arm in place. "You never did like to comply…"

Setting his right hand against the demoted Sexta's waist, Ulquiorra nestled his face in the crook of the other's neck, breathing in deeply as he began to concentrate. Grimmjow froze as he felt Ulquiorra’s breath so close to him, slender fingers dancing on the small of his back – their tips slowly heating up until they reached a temperature hot enough to scald the impenetrable _hierro_. At the same time that those fingers began burning away the mark of his lost ranking, Grimmjow's eyes shot open as a set of teeth bit down on his left shoulder. Blue irises dilated as black and white lips closed in on his skin, seemingly kissing and sucking, effectively distracting the Arrancar from his scorched skin. From the corner of his line of sight, Grimmjow watched with hitched breathing as the dual-hued lips worked its way across his shoulder, displacing his jacket along the way so that the clothing now barely hung from the edge of his severed limb. And whether it was intentional or not, the sapphire-eyed Arrancar couldn't help the immense heat pooling in his nether regions as his superior's groin happened to be directly behind his rear end. The searing pain of the burnt off tattoo went unnoticed as Ulquiorra's lips went higher up the tanned neck, a wet tongue marking his path as the lithe body pressed harder against a much larger frame. With the tattoo gone, the pale hand snaked around the Arrancar's waist, fingering the edges of the hollow hole in his abdomen and then lightly caressing the raw muscle inside the hole, eliciting a gasp from the aqua-haired Arrancar.

"You," Ulquiorra whispered directly into the inferior Arrancar's ear as he detracted his hands and slowly pushed himself away, "are now a Privaron Espada." With his task finished, the Cuatro Espada stepped back, relinquishing his hold on Grimmjow's arm and replacing both his hands into the pockets of his hakama. Seeing no immediate reaction from the other, Ulquiorra turned about and managed about three precise steps when --

"You bastard.”

Grimmjow's voice was as rough as his breathing – ragged, fierce. His steps were heavy as he reached out and roughly pulled Ulquiorra against his front, holding him by his right arm. Ulquiorra’s gaze remained straight forward. Grimmjow's intense warmth enveloped the pale Espada as the former doubled his grip on the tail-coated uniform top, ruffling up stands of ebony hair as he breathed into his superior's right ear. "Just where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"My business here is done," came Ulquiorra’s reply, stoic and unfazed.

"Like hell your fucking business is done," Grimmjow hissed, fingers almost tearing apart the fabric of Ulquiorra's jacket as his grip intensified.

The porcelain face turned ever so slightly to face the other man, a gleam holding dark promises surfaced in his eyes as he stared at the Privaron holding him back. Really now… At the moment, not even an inch of space separated Grimmjow's body from his back and he definitely knew what 'business' the demoted Sexta was talking about… It wasn't a split-second decision of his to remove the other's tattoo after all… What's surprising was that Grimmjow actually held him back.

"Do you realize what you're asking of me, Jaegerjaquez?" the dark-haired Espada asked softly, even tauntingly, as he remained motionless.

Sapphire eyes harden and the reply came out in a menacing growl. "And I fucking hate you for it."

_I don't even want to understand what this is._

The muscular body was laid down against the floor, sweaty, panting and stripped of clothing – exposing all for twin jade eyes to see. Ulquiorra was in no better state – having discarded his own clothes before disrobing the sapphire-eyed Arrancar. The dark-haired Espada wore the ghost of a smile as he hovered over Grimmjow, hands on either side of the latter's head with his legs bordering the taller Arrancar's hips. The bold, gothic number four loomed, tattooed on the pale man's left pectoral.

Sapphire eyes narrowed and the frown on Grimmjow's lips tightened as the intense warmth of his own body along with Ulquiorra's spiritual pressure engulfed him. The lights from the high ceiling fell over his superior's form, making the pale, pale skin radiate… the soft yet piercing gaze of green eyes bright under the shadow of layered ebony hair made Grimmjow hold in his breath.

Silence enveloped them, no other spiritual pressure could be felt within a mile, it was just the two of them in that ruined sparring chamber. Naked. On top of each other. Staring.

"Are you just gonna stare?" Grimmjow finally snapped, starting to feel rather uncomfortable as Ulquiorra's gaze was kept on his face. Damn it, he didn't want to sound like he badly needed to get laid but fuck this shit if that self-righteous bastard was just going be a god damned tease.

Thick eyelashes lidded the jade eyes as Ulquiorra's gaze softened and he lowered his lips on the demoted Espada's neck, meeting the tanned skin with a delicate kiss.

The muscular body underneath stiffened. Gentleness was the last thing he had expected. Too-blue eyes met with half-lidded greens for a split second before Ulquiorra closed his eyes completely and started kissing down Grimmjow's neck.

Pale hands slowly descend on the velvety skin - feeling, memorizing, and claiming. The black-tipped fingers purposely glided along the contour of the severed left arm of the man underneath, feeling the taut muscles as he moved towards the man's chest.

The feel of surprisingly tender hands on him rendered Grimmjow speechless, the heat from the lithe body that was now a bare inch on top of him only made the Privaron feel ever hotter. Black and white lips were on his collar bone, a wet tongue darting out occasionally, sending delightful shivers down his spine as it unabashedly lapped up the sweat that covered him. All of a sudden, the Espada's ministrations stopped and Ulquiorra raises his head, half-hidden eyes catching an almost alarmed look on their sapphire counterpart.

 _Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Ulquiorra wasn't going to get up was he?

"You haven't removed this scar…" the dark-haired Espada's voice came out delicate, much like the way his fingers skimmed over the burned skin.

"Wha-?" Grimmjow's mind was pretty addled at the sudden question, his brain empty of much thought save for those concerning the seductive Arrancar over him.

"This scar Grimmjow… it emits that substitute reaper's spirit force…" Ulquiorra repeated daintily, lifting his body a little ways higher, tracing the scar with black-tipped fingers. "Why is it still here? You could have easily healed it over the past days…  _Why is it still here_?"

There was the slightest raise in the Cuatro's voice that cut clear through Grimmjow' muddled mind. A serious look shone within sapphire eyes, his sober voice filling the muted room, "My battle with that punk ain't finished yet."

Ulquiorra 'hn'-ed and narrowed his eyes, casting shadows over the gleam of bright greens. "You're being illogical again, Jaegerjaquez." He pressed the palm of his hand on the edge of the slanted scar. "I will remove it."

"Don't you fucking mess with-!" a finger over his lips stopped Grimmjow from finishing his cry.

"Fine. I won't do it now. Later, then…" Ulquiorra stated lightly, detracting his finger from the supple tanned lips and bringing his face close to trail kisses down the Privaron's left jaw. "Once we've finished…"

Grimmjow had opened his mouth to retort but his throat closed in on it as he felt added weight pressing down his groin. A warm hand soon followed in that direction and - oh _fuck. Right there_. Feline pupils dilated and a suppressed moan left the parted lips, his breaths growing rapid as deft fingers teasingly stroked his manhood.

A wild sort of glee – freed after being confined in the dark for too long – lit up Ulquiorra’s penetrative gaze as he watched Grimmjow’s tanned face color with a dusting of red. The room’s silence is shattered, his ears filled with indulgent moans as he allowed more contact between them – uncovering the head of Grimmjow’s member with each pull, rubbing pearlescent precum to ease the friction. Grimmjow had his eyes closed, canines bared as he tried stifle his groans; Ulquiorra couldn't help thinking that he actually liked seeing that look on the fallen Espada. The heat pooling in his private regions only confirmed his thoughts. The Privaron's hips started to buck against his hand, demanding more contact and the Ulquiorra’s lips raised a small smile when Grimmjow's remaining arm latched onto his waist, roughly pulling them together.

"O-Oh fuck!" Grimmjow rasped aloud as he bucked upwards, feeling Ulquiorra’s own erection prodding the tense muscles of his groin.

Ulquiorra's body can barely contain the hot flush of arousal pumping in his veins, his hand loosened its grip on Grimmjow’s dick, body acting on instinct; never before experienced sensuality filled his system and it’s thrilling to let it just flood away his inhibitions. The pale face buried itself on the crook of Grimmjow's neck, angled in a way that the bone helm wouldn't accidentally bruise his partner; he had his teeth do that job, nipping and biting at tanned skin as their cocks rubbed against each other’s.

Senses blurring, Grimmjow could do nothing but take in everything that Ulquiorra was giving. Hot breaths branded his already heated skin with indecipherable grunts and his back felt like it’s stuck to the floor with the intensity of their combined spiritual pressures going out of control. The feel of the other's smooth skin under his hand and the way that Ulquiorra seemed to be holding on only made him want to keep his superior ever closer. And don't even get him started on – dare he say it? – the sounds that Ulquiorra made – something like a gasp and  a whine that made his slim frame tremble, a garbled moan when their dicks rubbed just right. The tanned hand slipped to the middle of the Espada's back, calloused palm committing to memory every curve on the immaculate expense of flesh as they moved together with unabated synchrony.

Jade eyes opened with a snap as he felt Grimmjow's hand on his rear, black-tipped fingers digging into the Privaron's shoulders. "Ja-Jaegerjaquez… hold on…" Ulquiorra murmured, stopping for a moment and raising his eyes to meet an equally hazy pair.

"What?" Grimmjow growled, he needed more fucking contact damn it.

The porcelain face was flushed, as was the rest of the Espada's body, when he slowly pushed himself up, his small chest heaving – the gothic four marked on it layered with sweat. "…Why don't we… move on…?

"Move what?" Something passionate and easily confused with anger flared within sapphire orbs when Ulquiorra slowly picked himself up and appeared to be leaving.

Pale hands were flat against the floor, arms straightened out, as Ulquiorra hovered over the demoted Espada, green eyes glinting at the sight of swirling rage on the latter's face at his assumed departure; tanned fingers dug possessively into his waist. "Don't worry, we are not done just yet," the lithe Arrancar stated softly, and with that assurance, Grimmjow allowed his hand to fall. Ulquiorra proceeded shift in position until he had Grimmjow's legs on either side of him. The aqua-haired Arrancar's manhood stood red and veined and leaking in front of him; Ulquiorra couldn't stop the minute quirk of his lips. He placed one hand on either side of Grimmjow's hips and positioned himself at the man's entrance. Green eyes momentarily flicked upwards, finding a deeply flushed Grimmjow expectantly looking back at him. Ulquiorra smiled.

In one quick thrust, he sheathed his cock within the inferior Arrancar. Grimmjow gave a pained shout, the dark scar across his chest expanding and contracting with every heave as he coped with the intrusion; his back end felt as though it was going to be ripped in two.

The pale-skinned Espada waited for the muscles clenching down on him to relax; he wasn't that cruel, after all. Grimmjow's ragged breathing calmed some and the superior Arrancar took it as a sign to go on. In a careful motion, Ulquiorra pulled out, reveling in the mewling noises that managed to escape Grimmjow's lips despite the latter's efforts to quell them. The dark-haired Espada pulled back until only the head of his cock was inside Grimmjow before pushing his length inside once more in an unhurried pace.

Grimmjow gritted his teeth, bearing with the pain of a different sort of impaling than he was used to. Figures that the steely Cuatro would be a dominating fuck. Ulquiorra's hands were firmly planted on his hips, keeping Grimmjow’s body down as he leisurely moved in and out of him. The aqua-haired man kept his head against the floor, gasping as pleasure slowly mixed in, eventually overpowering the pain in his system; coinciding with the quickening pace of Ulquiorra's thrusts.

Half-lidded jade eyes watched as Grimmjow's eyes slid shut and the tanned lips finally allowed his gruff voice to flow. Ulquiorra pardoned his own façade to break, just once, just for this occasion – his cheeks dusted with pink, dual-colored lips giving way for his quick breaths, his slim body layered with sweat. The Cuatro Espada doubled his efforts in driving into his fallen comrade, lifting one hand to grip Grimmjow's throbbing member. Fingers fisted around the flushed shaft, lubricated by the semen that copiously ran down from the tip.

"Fuck.” The Privaron's voice was rough and his eyes shot open at the feel of Ulquiorra’s hand on him once again, tight strokes moving in time with his thrusts. More than the pleasure of getting fucked _and_ getting a handjob out of it, Grimmjow’s attention was captured by the Cuatro Espada himself. The higher-ranking Arrancar threw back his head, strands of ebony sticking onto his sweat-covered face; his immaculate figure moved with a grace and sensuality that Grimmjow dazedly connected with his fighting style. Gradually, he raised himself into a leaned-back sitting position; Ulquiorra didn’t seem to mind this shift in posture. The Cuatro merely opened his eyes by a fraction in silent question.

Acting on instinct – and because the temptation to do it was seriously driving him crazy anyway –Grimmjow reached out and grabbed the ebony-haired man by his nape. Ulquiorra froze at the sudden pull, pausing with his member deep within the muscular Arrancar, and before he could make sense of the situation, Grimmjow sunk his canines into the joint of his neck and right shoulder. Bright green eyes flew wide open at the wet feeling of teeth, tongue and lips on his skin, not to mention the cold feeling of Pantera's jawbone pressing against his exposed cheek. Satisfied with his grip, the tanned hand slid down the exposed pale flesh, wrapping around the slender waist and leaving no space between their bodies. The fallen Espada then began to move, rolling his hips up then down, taking control of their pace and angling his body so that the head of Ulquiorra’s cock hit his prostate dead center. Canine teeth traveled down the smooth shoulder, marring the flawless skin with crescents of pink-tinged marks, alternately biting and sucking, drawing out muffled moans from his superior.

Grimmjow breathed heavily, fingernails digging into Ulquiorra's waist, reversing their positions until he was seated on the smaller man’s lap. His head leaned heavily against Ulquiorra's as strands of aqua and ebony tangled with each other, the bone fragment on his right cheek pressing hard against the Cuatro's.

"Grimmjow…" was the call that escaped Ulquiorra's lips as the fallen Espada's movements became frenzied. His own pale hands had been displaced, now wrapped around the tanned man's middle as he steadied the latter in his movements. The heat pooling in his groin was reaching uncharted heights with every thrust until the sensations completely blinded him. Both men acted on nothing more than impulse, on that basic carnal need that was never really taken from them when they had turned into hollows in the first place.

Everything was on fire. Ropes of burning need knotted over and around their bodies, stringing them taut and desperate until that one last thrust finally sent both men over the edge. Release was a sweet sensation; sticky, if one were to take things literally. Their weary bodies half-collapsed against each other. Harsh breaths were all that were exchanged as reason and logic gradually returned, bringing along a sense of uncertainty.

Breaths came out from the slim space between black and white lips as the Cuatro Espada kept his face buried in the crook of Grimmjow's neck. His ebony hair stuck to his face and neck and he felt unbelievably wet – solid reminders of why he avoided such interactions; except, of course, in very special cases. The grip of his nails on his subordinate's abdomen was loose as exhaustion washed over him. He inhaled Grimmjow's distinctive scent and his fingertips added just the slightest bit of pressure in their hold.

Eventually, after what seemed to be long minutes of rest, Ulquiorra finally raised his hands and placed them on Grimmjow's shoulders, mildly pushing the taller man back until the latter was on the floor again. Grimmjow would've normally resisted or made some sort of argument but he remained uncharacteristically mute, letting the Espada push him back. The cool mien had returned to Ulquiorra's face as he nimbly pulled his length out; a trail of ejaculation following it on the way out.

Ulquiorra sat back for a moment, sapphire eyes holding his gaze; silence reigned between them until the pale-skinned Espada lowered his gaze towards the Privaron's torso. Grimmjow followed his superior's stare and found his mind going blank at the sight of his front all scar-free, as though he had never been hit in the first place. Surprisingly, the anger that he felt wasn't as extreme as he'd expected; the loss of his scar seeming to be far too trivial now that he was faced with the cold hard fact that he just had sex with Ulquiorra Cifer.

"You seem to take the situation well…" the jade-eyed Arrancar noted lightly, putting his legs together and sitting with them on one side as Grimmjow easily remained in a somewhat spread-eagled position.

"I shoulda known you'd have your way in the end, you son of a bitch," the aqua-haired man muttered with minimal bitterness in his tone.

"And here I'd thought you'd be livid…"

"Tsch… Aren't you supposed to get back to that bastard Aizen now? Report how you've done your stupid assignment and more?" Grimmjow sneered, eyes trained on the high ceiling.

"Aizen made it a point that it was not necessary to make a report of this assignment…" the Cuatro answered easily, making his way to sit by Grimmjow's left side.

Sapphire eyes narrowed on the pale figure, "So what more do you want?" he asked with a frown.

For an answer, Ulquiorra placed his left hand in the middle of Grimmjow's chest, a little way off from where the original scar was placed. The porcelain face was then brought near for jades and sapphires to see eye to eye. The Espada's cool gaze was met with the Privaron's hard stare and before any of them could say a word, Ulquiorra slashed his hand across Grimmjow's front, marking a straight line downwards.

"Ow! Fucking shit!" Grimmjow started, hissing at the feel of a fresh wound puncturing through his _hierro_.

The Cuatro's spiritual pressure burned along the path, remaking the scar but with a personal touch. Droplets of blood appeared along the central line, soiling the black-tipped fingers. Ulquiorra brought his hand to his face, showing the inferior Arrancar his own blood, returning the murderous glare with something that could've passed for a smirk. And, deliberately right in front of the muscular man, Ulquiorra took in his bloodstained fingers and leisurely licked off the red stain.

Grimmjow could only stare as his superior proceeded to do the same to the line of blood that he had created on his chest, black and white lips closing on his skin with a velvety pink tongue lapping up the coppery fluid, taking in even the flecks of semen that surrounded the wound he had inflicted.

If there was anything that Grimmjow was thankful for, it was the fact that this new 'scar' didn't reach into his hollow hole. And once Ulquiorra had raised himself off of him, the smile that the Espada wore only worked to send shivers down the mutilated man's spine.

"I wish to take you for my own, Grimmjow…" the jade-eyed man murmured softly, his quiet voice echoing in the large room, half-lidded eyes staring into pools of blue.

The frown on Grimmjow's lips hardened as he processed the Cuatro’s words. Well, who the fuck knew that the scrawny bitch had a thing for him after all? But damn it all, he never could tell what that porcelain-faced enigma was thinking! Telling him he was demoted and then initiating sex… Healing the scar left by the substitute reaper's attack and then making a new one by himself… What a fucking maniac.

Grimmjow finally huffed and sat up straight, not once breaking eye contact as he considered his options. Yeah or nada? Ulquiorra almost looked expectant, he could just see the eager little child within the depths of those shielded jade eyes. Was Ulquiorra asking for commitment, though? Like a _fraccion_ with benefits. (Grimmjow mentally gagged at the thought.) Or did he mean that he just wanted him for sex? Heck, why was he even thinking of those things?

Ulquiorra quietly waited for an answer, thick lashes partly covering his wide green eyes as he watched Grimmjow's lips alternately tighten and let loose as the other man weighed his pros and cons.

At last, Grimmjow let out a snort and the devil-may-care smile was back on his lips, sapphire orbs aglow as he replied.

"Well, I've got no problem with that…" he laughed crudely, the old swagger back in his tone "Just one thing, though… I want your ass the next time, got it?"

"… Very well."

_That was the beginning of our end. We knew it and we didn't even mind one bit._


	2. Part II

What in the fucking name of hell was he thinking?!

 Twin pools of muddy sapphire shifted from left to right, narrowed as they were, suspiciously checking his surroundings for signs of any presence. Nothing.

 The muscular Arrancar's guarded posture relaxed as he finally stepped out from the shadows, a frown adorning his lips as his footsteps fell softly on the eggshell-white floor. There was only one door at the end of the hallway, and the gothic black number on it loomed at him even from a distance.

 Why the heck was he here again?

Grimmjow gruffly ruffled his hair using his right hand – his only hand – casting an annoyed glance about before proceeding. He didn’t want to be caught doing this shitty thing but…

The tanned hand was irately fisted.

He couldn’t feel  _his_  spiritual pressure around and it bothered him to no end. No matter how much he tried to keep an aloof disposition about it, the nagging…  _thing_ … at some far corner of his mind wouldn’t stop.

And so here he was now. Five feet away from the concrete door; having a futile staring contest with the dark and gothic number embedded in the middle of it.

He’d told himself that he really didn’t have to go inside and check – he had been a fucking Espada, god damn it! – he just needed to feel that cold bastard’s spiritual pressure and then he could go back to his room in the tower of the Tres Cifras.

… And that was where his problems began.

Sapphire eyes steeled as he failed to perceive the Cuatro Espada’s presence in the chamber. Canines were ground against each other as Grimmjow tried not to lose his cool…

So what if Ulquiorra wasn’t in his quarters? There were literally a thousand other places in Las Noches that he could be at… It was also possible that Aizen (the asshole) had sent that suck up to some mission…

Tsch. It wasn’t like he was worried.

The feeling of something resting on his abdomen startled the aqua-haired man, his eyes quickly darted towards that certain spot only to narrow once he’d realized that it was his own hand. His own hand, lightly tracing the edges of the scar on his front – yes,  _that_  scar. The one that still held traces of Cifer’s spiritual pressure despite the almost two-week span since the Cuatro had given it to him.

Grimmjow hastily drew back his hand and stuffed it into the pocket of his hakama, turning his back on the door and setting his eyes forward with a glare. The unrolled left sleeve of his jacket quivered.

Fucking bitch.

_Just look at what you’ve fucking done to me._

“Your report is sufficient, Ulquiorra,” Aizen Sousuke spoke sedately, looking down on his minion with an air of pleasantry that never did reach his chocolate eyes. “As expected. You may now return to your quarters, I shall call for you when it is time to put the plan into action.”

“As you wish, Aizen-sama.” The ebony-haired Espada spoke monotonously, head bowed and with his right hand over his left chest. Turning around, the slim Arrancar sharply walked out of the throne room, hands in his pockets and his indifferent mien never wavering as he passed through the endlessly white hallways – saying not a word to any Arrancar that happened to pass him by. Aizen’s most recent task for him was rather tedious if he was to be honest but he knew he had no reason to complain. He was at the very least indebted to that man on the throne for giving him power, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t carry out the menial tasks set upon him.

 He soon arrived at the West Wing of Las Noches, the area specified for the housing of Aizen’s prized Espada – it was basically one long corridor with ten hallways, each branching off to an Espada’s room. Silvery beams of moonlight shone upon him and he stopped exactly at the fourth hallway, turning his face to find an empty hall leading to his chambers. But it wasn’t empty as his vision perceives - he felt someone there.  _He_  was there. A barely-there smile flickered on black and white lips as he resumed his walk, channeling his spiritual pressure as to alert his guest of his arrival.

The door slides open before him and jade eyes take in the sight of the antechamber – the blank ceiling and walls, the couch and table in the middle, and the two arcs leading to other compartments from each side. A small square window at the far end lit up half the room, showing a fabricated emptiness. He takes two full steps inside, keeping the door wide open behind him with half-lidded orbs staring straight ahead as he felt for his guest’s location.

“You turn up and leave without saying a word,” Ulquiorra spoke softly, green eyes bright as they shift towards his right where a shadowed figure had stilled – frozen at suddenly being addressed. The Espada turned to face the other as the concrete door slid shut – the sound of its impact echoing in the silent room – as intense sapphire eyes glared down at him.

“Do you have business with me, Privaron?” Ulquiorra asked, his tone sounding just the slightest bit implicative.

“’S nothin’,” Grimmjow snapped back, keeping himself in the shadows as he shifted his gaze away, staring instead at a far corner of the ceiling.

“Why were you agitated?” the Cuatro Espada continued, lifting up his left hand and placing it upon the taller man’s right shoulder. “Your spiritual pressure was quite disturbed… I felt it before entering the room…” Bright jade eyes stared at the handsome face as his hand gently guided the Privaron’s attention towards him, setting the inferior Arrancar’s back against the wall.

Grimmjow, for his part, kept his face turned away; stubbornly gazing at the ceiling despite the feeling of liquid jades boring holes into his face. “It’s nothing, damn it.” His voice carried resentment but his expression – and his lack of attempt to escape – served only to cancel it out.

“Hm.”

Ulquiorra’s silence gave a rather threatening air; the minute contraction of black-tipped fingers on his jacket was surely a warning that  _things_  were going to happen if he dared tested the man’s patience.

With a huff, Grimmjow grudgingly muttered, “Some shit bags were claiming that they’ve acquired Aizen’s Hougyoku and killed ya in the process… So I came to… ya know… confirm if the bullshit’s true… If ya finally kicked the bucket and all…” (1)

Sapphire met jades for a split second before he shifted his eyes to stare at the walls. After that brief eye contact, Ulquiorra sighed and shut his eyes, closing the gap between their bodies and resting his face on the crook of Grimmjow’s neck and right shoulder.

“Aizen-sama has merely sent me on an errand, Grimmjow,” the pale-skinned Espada murmured against the tanned skin. “… I should feel quite affronted that you thought some low-level Arrancars had been able to dispose of me…” he whispered, placing a kiss on the aqua-haired man’s neck, just below the second set of jaw bones.

The fallen Espada made no response to that, merely gritting his teeth and keeping his eyes away from the slender figure nestled against his front. Ulquiorra’s breaths were hot on his neck but he dared not do a thing.

Was he scared? His inner voice scoffed at the thought. Of course he fucking wasn’t.

These things… the touches, the kisses… the sex… it didn’t really mean anything to Ulquiorra… so it would make sense that he himself shouldn’t put meanings into them as well. There were just…  what? … Just some sort of… sort of…

“What are you thinking about?”

Ulquiorra’s quiet voice (and the soft lips brushing against his right ear) snapped Grimmjow out of his thoughts. Blue eyes abruptly met the half-lidded jade ones that had been staring up at him for a good while now.

“Sorry,” Grimmjow mumbled distractedly, turning his head to face his superior, ignoring the heat in his cheeks when he noticed the minimal proximity between their faces.

“I see.” With that simple statement, the porcelain-faced Espada slowly withdrew, straightening his posture as he stood properly, drawing back his hands and securing them in his pockets. “You have seen what you have come for… Your departure is nagging, is it not?”

“… Uh?”

Bright green eyes settled on the door and it slid open. “I have just come back from an assignment and I would wish to spend the rest of the night in quiet. You may leave.” With that, the Cuatro Espada turned about and headed into the arched doorway on the left side of the room; shadows enveloping his form the moment he crossed the border.

Grimmjow blinked. Twice. And he cursed under his breath as his mind helpfully supplied that he looked like an utter fool just about now.

Inside the bedchamber, Ulquiorra had taken to standing under the room’s sole window, jade eyes looking up but not seeing the velvety deep blue sky littered with diamonds. He was listening… feeling… alert for any reaction that might come from the Arrancar that he had just left… assuming that Grimmjow would react in the first place. The fallen Espada had been awfully quiet.

And then, there it was… the ever-faint sound of the concrete door sliding shut… and the loss of Grimmjow’s spiritual pressure.

Ulquiorra closed his eyes. So it was going to be like this…

“Just so you know…”

The ebony head snapped up as the Espada whipped around, startled at the voice of the one that he had assumed to have left. Instead, though, Grimmjow was leaning against the arched doorway, sapphire eyes glowing in the dark, though not quite looking at him, with the lightest sprinkling of red on his cheeks (from what he could see of the Privaron’s silhouette, at least).

“I don’t know what I would’ve done to those assholes if they actually managed to kill you off…”

The roughness in Grimmjow’s voice cut through the thick silence and Ulquiorra allowed a smile to slip into his features as he crossed the room and stood a mere inch away from the other.

“Well, I’m quite sure that you  _do_  know, Grimmjow…” Jade eyes looked up and finally caught the sapphire blue orbs in his gaze.

“Tsch. You just  _have_  to know everything don’t ‘cha, wise ass,” the demoted Sexta grumbled, though his tone wasn’t much annoyed. He doesn’t even resist when pale hands pulled at his right arm

_Is it so sad to know that this would bring us nowhere?_

The room was bathed in artificial light, the spotless walls and floors even appeared to shine. The four-cornered room wasn’t big but it was compensated by its height, towering some twenty feet or so; a long white bed served as its only furnishing which looked quite lonely sitting on one side of the windowless room.

A sheathed sword laid at the foot of the bed – it’s handle and scabbard were both of a light blue color and it had a crooked ‘S’ for its guard – and just above the weapon lay it’s owner – eyes closed with a loose frown decorating his lips. The spiky aqua hair was down, framing the handsome face whose expression was rather relaxed. His head was turned to the left, exposing his right cheek and the jawbone attached to it. Anyone who would’ve dared peek in the room would surely assume that the Arrancar was asleep.

It had been at least two weeks since Grimmjow’s last encounter with Ulquiorra – in both literary senses, if you will – and the Privaron was still mostly confused as to how things ended up as such. Last time he had thought things out normally – and boy had that been long – he hated Cifer and wanted to kick his ass to teach the bastard a lesson. Now, though, his views in regard to Cifer’s ass had gone into an entirely different perspective.

From the very beginning, he could easily say that he didn’t like the Cuatro Espada. Ulquiorra was too obedient to Aizen and it didn’t help that the pale man was too fucking reserved – silent as a mute and unwilling to shed more blood than necessary. Bullshit, all of it. Plus, even though it was really the man’s nature to say things, Grimmjow felt that he had been called ‘trash’ just one too many times by this superior of his. Tsch.  _Superior_. That sneaky son of a bitch had had him twice already, damn it.

… Cifer was a pretty good fuck, though.

Especially when things get intense. His sapphire eyes could never get enough of watching Ulquiorra’s cold façade slowly break away, piece by piece… The high and mighty Espada willingly putting down his defenses and allowing the fervent desire to melt that cold and stoic face… for his eyes only. That, and the way that Ulquiorra has this possibility of going all-dominatrix on him. He only got even more excited when he felt it – the way that the prim and proper Arrancar would be overtaken by his own carnal desires.

A smirk tugged at Grimmjow’s lips.

He couldn’t exactly understand how things got from there (where he and Ulquiorra glared each other down at every chance they got) to here (the point when he would always,  _always_  find that shadow of a smile on the Cuatro’s lips if they happened to pass each other). Sure, they suddenly became fuck buddies and shit happened but damn it all he was created to fight in some god damned war and not so that he could resume having a sex life… He had even almost forgotten about the blind prick that cut off his left arm.

Blue eyes slowly opened as his lips formed a thin line. He had been using most of his time wrecking up the sparring room in the Tres Cifras tower, butchering a few low-life bastards along the way, but somehow things were just… different.

Three sharp knocks suddenly came from the door, startling the Privaron. Grimmjow sat up quickly, grabbing Pantera’s handle as the door slowly opened. What it revealed only served to freeze the fallen Espada.

“Grimmjow,” was the slender man’s greeting as he stepped into the room, stopping right in front of the aforementioned Arrancar; jade eyes meeting with sapphires. The concrete door quietly closed behind him.

“The fuck are you doing here, Ulquiorra?” the Privaron asked brusquely, putting on an annoyed look.

“Aizen-sama has given me a new mission.”

Grimmjow snorted. “So? Like I give a shit on what that bastard wants…”

“The destination is Karakura.”

_I’ll have to admit… I am not entirely fond of how your eyes flare at the mention of that place._

Why do these assholes just keep popping up one after the other? The aqua-haired man couldn’t help grumbling inwardly as he raised Pantera to strike the latest intruder. Damn it, the freak drew out his own fucking mask too. Tsch. Son of a bitch.

“Sorry Arrancar… You seem strong, so I can’t take it easy on you…” (2)

Grimmjow’s eyes widened with disbelief as the blond bastard suddenly shot a cero at him. It was coming fast…

A flash of light, a deafening explosion and a thick cloud of smoke erupted. His body was thrown to the ground, sustaining injuries both from hitting the pavement and from that asshole’s attack. Blood oozed from various cuts on his weathered body and it didn’t help that his clothes were in tatters.

“Shit…” the aqua-haired Arrancar cussed, bent over on one knee as he breathed heavily. The taste of his own blood in his mouth disgusted him. “Damn it…”

“… You minimized the damage by hitting my cero with your own…”

He looked up to find that masked dickwad approaching. The man’s tone irritated him. “Not bad…”

‘ _Not bad?!_ ’ Why that fucking piece of shit –

“Fuck you…!” Grimmjow spat, raising his weapon. He’ll show that stinking fuckface… “GRIND!”

The blonde man’s eyes widened under his mask.

‘ _Oh yeah, you better be scared, motherfucker…_ ’

Before the Arrancar could even call out his sword’s name, though, a pale hand gripped his own and a massive wave of spiritual pressure pushed down on him. Sapphire eyes dilated as he recognized the slender form that now stood beside him.

“Ulq… Ulquiorra!” the aqua-haired man growled as his eyes turned to the left to glare at his superior. What the fucking hell did that scrawny bitch want now? He was just about to release and mow down the little shithead…

“Mission accomplished,” the jade-eyed Espada stated simply, releasing his grip only when he saw that the Privaron wasn’t going to disobey. “Let’s go.”

The light of Negación was cast upon the two, bringing them up towards the Hollow world.

The bloodied Arrancar lowered his sword with distaste, breathing heavily as he resorted to glaring down at the substitute soul reaper. He was so close to finally killing off the son a bitch.

“There are some traces of your spiritual pressure…” Ulquiorra muses out softly, green eyes impassively staring down at the orange-haired teen. “It seems that you have acquired a new power… but is that the extent of it?”

Kurosaki Ichigo could only fume as Aizen’s minions entered the Garganta, both turning their backs on him as their means of transport closed in.

Grimmjow roughly sheathes Pantera, muttering a few choice curses as he glared at the dark void which was the Garganta.

“Grimmjow?” Ulquiorra’s quiet voice cut though the sounds of the torrential energy all around them.

Sapphire eyes pointedly looked to the side, pale blue brows furrowing as he felt the smaller Arrancar approach.

“I was about to fucking kill them all, you know.” The Privaron muttered, huffing as he finally met the wide jade eyes staring at him. “You could’ve just let me release, I can butcher those stinking reapers in one blow.” When Ulquiorra remained quiet, the injured Arrancar’s expression turned into one of ire. “The fuck are you looking at me like that for? Damn it Ulquiorra I could totally murder those dicks in a split second, if you’d only kept away from me for one fucking sec–!”

“Grimmjow…” pale hands settle on the bloodstained cheek and over the hollow remnants on the other. He stepped closer and gently pulled down the tanned face, looking eye to eye with the inferior Arrancar. “I do not doubt that you could dispose of the substitute reaper. That is why I tipped you off of this mission. But I did not expect the appearance of his masked ally, the blonde one which you were fighting off last.  _His_  powers greatly differ from the substitute reaper’s, he is the reason why I stopped you.”

“You think that motherfucker’s stronger than me?!” Sapphire eyes flared as Grimmjow revealed his canines.

“Given your current state, I must say ‘yes’,” the Cuatro Espada replied easily, unfazed by the imminent rage shown by the other at his answer. “You know that yourself, do you not? Even the substitute reaper’s abilities have grown… much differently than either of us had expected. You even got badly wounded from your fight…” Slender fingers unhurriedly traveled down from the bone fragment towards the aqua-haired man’s exposed chest, the porcelain skin tainted by crimson liquid as he settled his palm on the muscular front.

“The fight wasn’t over yet when you came around, smartass!” Grimmjow snarled, grabbing the shorter man by the collar of his jacket, pulling the latter closer until their noses almost touched.

“The masked blonde would have stopped you if you tried to assault the substitute… He had yet to release his sword and his cero already brought you such damage…” Ulquiorra pointed out coolly.

The Privaron’s knuckles were turning white as the force of his grip was almost enough to tear the fabric of his superior’s jacket. In the end, though, Grimmjow only gave a huff before removing his hold on the pale-skinned man.

“I really fucking want to kill you right now, you know that?” Pantera’s wielder seethed, running his hand through spiky aqua locks of hair.

“Then why aren’t you attacking?” the ebony-haired Espada asked, the thumb of his left hand brushing away the dried blood from Grimmjow’s lips.

Bright blue eyes stared down at the porcelain face and the delicate expression on it.

_Because I can’t… Because I don’t want to… Because things are different now._

The white concrete door slid shut at the medic’s departure and Ulquiorra stepped away from the wall, his footsteps echoing minutely in the silent room as he made to stand before the Privaron who sat on the bed’s edge. The latter had disposed of his tattered uniform and had put on a fresh hakama, his upper body bare save for the bandages that encircled his chest and abdomen, tied securely over his right shoulder.

“Well?” Grimmjow snapped as he met his superior’s eyes. The cold façade wasn’t there anymore, he noted.

“You should rest, there is still roughly ten and a half hours before Aizen-sama will call for us…” Ulquiorra stated quietly.

The wounded Arrancar leaned further on his right arm, turning his head towards the headboard of the bed. “Do I still have to attend that?”

“Aizen-sama has ordered for everyone involved with the mission–”

“Fine, fine, I get it,” the sapphire-eyed man butted in. “Meeting in the throne room at midnight… whatever.”

Silence lapsed between the two for a good whole minute until the Cuatro Espada decided to break it.

“…Should I take my leave?” Ulquiorra queried, hands in his pockets with his face lightly turned towards the door over his left shoulder.

 Grimmjow faced him and there was another moment of silence as they stared at each other.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the superior Arrancar finally spoke up and he began to take a step away when a tanned hand closed in on his wrist. Ulquiorra looked at the muscular man with a brow raised slightly in question.

“Never said I minded you stayin’,” Grimmjow muttered, brows scrunched up as though he himself was against saying this aloud.

Black and white lips lighted up, hinting a smile.

The aqua-haired Arrancar laid back on the mattress and shifted to give space for the other to occupy. The bed was just large enough to accommodate the two, who both ended up lying on their sides facing each other – the Privaron resting on his left and the Espada on his right, such that their bone fragments weren’t put under any pressure. Grimmjow was avoiding eye contact but there was only so much to look at when another person’s face was a mere five inches away. Eventually, a soft palm landed on the jawbone on his right cheek and the sapphire orbs finally landed on the porcelain face across him.

“You appear to be very agitated,” Ulquiorra pointed out, his features gentle as his fingers glided across the bone fragment on the other’s cheek. “Take it easy, Grimmjow…”

“Easy for you to say, you ain’t the one injured…” mumbled the muscular man.

“Then why don’t you lie on your back?”

At this, Grimmjow only gazed away and Ulquiorra gently turned the other man towards a lying position. Sapphire eyes still refused eye contact.

Sighing, the Espada eradicated the space between them, resting his chin on the tanned man’s left shoulder which was untouched by the bandages and draping his arm across the latter’s chest in the process.

The aqua-haired man froze at his superior’s move. It was just so… unusual… unexpected… uncalled-for. He chanced a peek and was stunned as he found Ulquiorra’s eyes shut with his lips set in an easy line, almost as if he was sleeping. Strands of ebony hair lay upon the porcelain features, flowing from underneath the bone helm that encased the left side of the Espada’s head. But before he knew what he was doing, Grimmjow found his right hand half-way towards Ulquiorra’s face and he stopped himself just in time, pulling back his hand and fisting it on the bed sheets.

As his eyes travelled downward, Grimmjow noticed the other’s palm on his chest. He frowned, musing quietly for a few seconds before finally giving in and taking hold of it – his rough fingertips brushing against the smooth skin, placing his thumb just under the palm and squeezing the hand ever so slightly.

“I did tell you to rest, didn’t I?”

The murmur of Ulquiorra’s voice startled the fallen Espada who had hastily tried to pull his hand away but it was too late; his superior had already returned his hold. Grimmjow faced the slender Arrancar only to find that jade eyes were half-opened and staring right at him.

“Ah–I–”

“Hush,” the smaller man whispered, “Just rest…” With that, he placed a kiss on Grimmjow’s shoulder and nestled closer, keeping hold of the inferior one’s hand.

The aqua-haired Arrancar gazed at the other for a few more moments, feeling a shiver go down his spine as the spot where the dual-hued lips landed on his skin seemed to burn up. Letting out a deep breath, Grimmjow turned his head to look up at the ceiling…

‘God damn it…’ was the man’s last thought before he finally closed his eyes, once again gripping the pale hand on his chest.

_We’re pulling each other down, clutching desperately, in our fall…_

“Sorry to be so forward, Orihime,” Aizen’s cool voice fills the silent throne room that night. “But would you show us your power?”

“…Yes… sir…” the auburn-haired woman replies shakily.

“Now then, in order to directly demonstrate your power,” the renegade captain continued, sharp eyes falling pointedly on one aqua-haired Arrancar. “Please heal Grimmjow’s left arm.”

The aforementioned man froze; the look of utter disinterest on his face a while ago had turned into one of shock.

“Ridiculous!” the current Sexta, Luppi, exclaimed. He continued to rant but nobody paid attention. Ulquiorra was sure that his own eyes were glued onto the Privaron; forcibly keeping his expression neutral as a foreboding feeling enveloped his figure.

The human girl moved to stand beside the dismembered Arrancar, softly calling out, “Souten Kishun… I reject.” A translucent convex that glowed a bright orange solidified under the mortal’s hands as she placed them over Grimmjow’s non-existent left arm.

Trepadora’s wielder was boisterous in the background; it was hard to think that he was actually injured with all the noise that he made. And all of a sudden he stopped. Everyone seemed to have stopped. Immobilized with shock as they watched with their own eyes as Grimmjow’s left arm was recreated, appearing out of thin air and looking as though it had never been lost in the first place.

“H-How did…!” the effeminate Espada stammered with a look of utter incredulity on his face.

Aizen Sousuke merely smiled. “Do you not understand?” he asked the current Sexta, the edge of his lips only quirking up when Luppi turned his eyes away. “Ulquiorra, you saw this as ‘temporal regression’ or ‘spatial regression’…”

Slightly startled as being called, Ulquiorra faced the Soul Reaper, taking care to appear passive. “Yes sir…” he replied monotonously.

“No way…” Lilac-eyed Luppi was visibly shaking, eyes wide as he stared most disbelievingly at the human amongst them.

The Ex-Shinigami Captain chose to ignore the shaken Arrancar’s words. “Correct, but this is neither of those… This is… the rejection of events. It is a power… that surpasses into God’s territory.”

The weight of the brunet’s words obviously dealt a mighty blow towards the effeminate Espada, Ulquiorra felt the Arrancar’s spiritual pressure fluctuate drastically just then… but jade green eyes were focused elsewhere. Elsewhere being a certain muscular man standing a few feet away from him – said man had an almost musing look upon his features as he raised his newly restored arm, flicking back his wrist.

“Hey girl,” Grimmjow’s gruff voice resounded lowly and Ulquiorra will not deny that he had clenched his jaw tight once the woman approached the former Espada. “Fix up one more spot.” Grimmjow ordered, jerking his left hand towards his back, pertaining to the burnt off mark on his right hip that had once been a gothic number six.

The woman complied and if it wasn’t for his self-imposed apathy, it wouldn’t be just Luppi who would’ve reacted as the burnt skin appeared to heal – revealing once more the bold and telling tattoo on the small of the aqua-haired man’s back.

“What are you planning Grimmjow?” Luppi’s tone was that of a threat but as Grimmjow turned around with his signature grin on his lips, Ulquiorra chose to close his eyes.

“Yeah?” Grimmjow’s voice is smug. Sapphire orbs are aflame once again. The spiritual pressure would’ve choked the Cuatro had he not been prepared.

And there it was. That gruesome sound accompanying the copper smell that filled the room all of a sudden.

“Gri-Grimmjow…” a pained voice rasped. “You son of a…”

“That’s how it goes.” Grimmjow’s smirk could be heard in the arrogant tone that his voice took. “Later. Former Mister Six.”

The expected blast came not a moment too late and almost maniacal laughter came out from the reinstated Sexta Espada.

“My power is back!  _ **I**_  am Number Six!” Grimmjow shouted with an almost hysterical tune. “It’s Sexta Espada, **Grimmjow**!”

Aizen said nothing as the throne room was filled with seemingly intoxicated laughter.

They were soon dismissed, the extra task of taking the woman to her room was assigned to Ulquiorra and he took to it rather perfunctorily. The mortal appeared to be disturbed and the Espada could’ve snorted at her but he maintained his silence.

“Stay here quietly,” Ulquiorra stated robotically, stopping in front of an empty chamber that Aizen had designated for their guest.

The auburn-haired girl mutely nodded and stepped inside, the door shut behind her and Ulquiorra walked away.

Grimmjow was an Espada once again… things were… going to go back to normal.

Whatever that ‘normal’ is.

The ebony-haired Espada took his time walking towards the West Wing, he didn’t have to hurry. There was nothing – no one – for him to make haste for.

It wasn’t by choice that he entered the West Wing from the opposite end. It just happened that that route was nearer from where he came from. He passed Yammy’s quarters first, ignoring the loud snores coming from inside it and continued on his way in a leisurely pace, hands kept inside his pockets.

The rest of the hallway was silent. That was until a figure stepped out from the shadows, and the Cuatro Espada would be lying if he said that he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Gleaming sapphire eyes stared at him almost tauntingly as the muscular figure of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez moved to block his path. The much too wide grin on his lips didn’t falter as the shorter Arrancar regarded him coldly.

Ulquiorra halted and looked Grimmjow in the eyes but his lips remained pursed – not a sound escaping him and with only the rigid expression in his eyes to show his sentiments.

The reinstated Sexta raised a brow. What the hell was Ulquiorra looking so pissed at him for? His grin melted into a frown as he contemplated on what to say. To be frank, Grimmjow had been waiting for the Cuatro’s return, thinking about finally carrying out those vivid fantasies his mind had been providing him for the past couple of days. But seeing that most hating look on the porcelain face made him pause… What the hell…?

Seeing that the taller man wasn’t about to say anything, Ulquiorra broke eye contact and resumed his walk. He had barely taken a step past when Grimmjow’s left hand grabbed him by his elbow.

“Oi!” the aqua-haired Espada called, glaring at his superior from the corner of his eyes. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

Jade eyes didn’t bother to meet with the sapphire pair, his gaze fell on his left arm where Grimmjow’s hand was holding him back –  _the_  hand that was non-existent until a few minutes ago, the one that made its most unwelcome return. Ulquiorra could feel an unusual heat filling his chest, burning him from the inside out. It wasn’t pleasant and even though it wasn’t in his character, Ulquiorra felt at ease in blaming that blasted heat for the irritation that enveloped him. He felt angry. And he felt even angrier at the fact that he didn’t know  _why_  he was so angry. Being in Grimmjow’s presence only served to worsen his situation.

“Damn it, Ulquiorra.” Grimmjow cussed, tugging the pale-skinned Espada so that they were face to face. “What gives?”

Ulquiorra allowed himself to be pulled back. He didn’t know why, when he could’ve so easily maintained his ground; he just let it. His lips were set on a very thin line, glass-like green eyes finally setting upon the inferior Arrancar’s face. Grimmjow appeared to be put-off. Ch. That was nothing.

Sapphire pools were looking at him with resentment.

…Oh right, he had been asked a question…

“What do you want, Gr-”  the dark-haired Espada found his jaw clenching. He didn’t understand but he suddenly found himself unable to stomach calling the other man by name. “Sexta?”

He spat out the title. Ulquiorra was certain of that. The ranking felt like poison in his mouth; distasteful, sickening.

Grimmjow was startled for a second, his grip on Ulquiorra’s arm falling loose. Ice cold fury met his gaze and he had no clue as to why Ulquiorra was being like this. Weren’t they…

Oh. Yeah. They weren’t. God  _damn_.

The muscular Espada steeled his expression, shoving his left hand into the pocket of his hakama. Well if things were going to be like this… Pale blue brows furrowed and Grimmjow huffed, putting on a sneer. “Now don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten our little agreement?” he asked in a snide tone, stepping forward and minimizing the gap between him and the shorter Espada.

Ulquiorra’s bright eyes maintained contact despite the fact that he had to tilt his head up to do so. His face remained expressionless as he decoded the other man’s insinuation. Nothing changed much in his mien when he finally recalled, Ulquiorra merely shifted his gaze towards the hallway on his right which led exactly towards the Sexta’s chambers.

“If you must…”

_I don’t understand… I still want you._

Half-lidded jade eyes watched as Grimmjow thrust in and out of him – hard and rough. Dual-hued lips parted as he allowed his moans and gasps to fill the air. A muscular body hovered closer above him as calloused hands pinned him down by the waist.

Grimmjow’s lips ravaged the porcelain skin; showering the Cuatro’s exposed front with bites and kisses – none of which lasted very long as their inherent  _hierro_  played its role. Ulquiorra was very tight but the pain from it only caused more pleasure to pump into his system. At last, he found himself overpowering his superior – it didn’t matter that Ulquiorra  _submitted_  to him, it was all the same in the end. Canines punctured the milky skin and a muffled gasp followed as the slender body underneath him arched up. The Sexta’s movements turn erratic as he caught a taste of blood before the wound closed up; he licked up the spot before starting a fresh trail across the other man’s neck.

Black-tipped fingers were close to shredding the pristine bed sheets. And as much as Ulquiorra had resolved to be as mute as he can get, he found that thought to be simply impossible. Not when it was about Grimmjow. Hazy green eyes slid shut as a pair of lips find their way to his hollow hole, nipping at the rim. Then a wet tongue slid inside and Ulquiorra found himself clutching the inferior Espada, pulling the man closer, deeper… sinking his nails into the sweaty, tanned skin. He couldn’t feel the strain in his bottom end… nothing registered of the carving heat inside his chest because yes, he wanted this.

Grimmjow was startled. Ulquiorra had so far not touched him in their current encounter but now it was the slender man pulling their bodies flush against each other. The Sexta raised himself and met with a sultry gaze; his breath was abruptly caught.

And he just stared back because something in those jade eyes just seem wrong to him. He saw pain and something broke inside his system. A tanned hand rose, cupping the flushed cheek as Grimmjow pushed himself up, leveling with the porcelain face underneath him.

“Ulquiorra,” he breathed and he almost cringed at how the eyes staring at him seem to widen and fill with aching. “I don’t understand you…”

“You don’t have to,” the ebony-haired man murmurs, “Just… ah… finish this…”

And as though to emphasize his words, Ulquiorra lowered himself further, pushing the Sexta’s member deeper into him; their gazes remain locked even as they spiral into their climaxes.

Chests rose and fell rapidly. Body fluids varnish their heated skin as Grimmjow lowered his face, undeterred by the look of alarm that had risen in the Cuatro’s eyes. His lips lingered dangerously close over Ulquiorra’s as he used his thumb to caress the man’s smooth cheek.

“What does all of this mean to you, Ulquiorra?” Grimmjow finally asked; a hair’s breadth away from actually connecting when a loud clap resounded in the room. And his view was suddenly filled with the image of an immaculate wall; a stinging feeling erupting on his left cheek.

Soft pants resounded in his ear and Grimmjow slowly turned his face, finding a most unusual flustered expression on his superior’s mien; the guilty hand was still raised in the air.

“ _Don’t_  even think of going there…” Ulquiorra hissed in subdued tones, a surprising strength backing up his words.

Pale blue brows creased and Grimmjow sharply withdrew; moving to half-lay on the unoccupied portion of his bed wearing a scowl, both hands fisted.

“And what the  **fuck**  was that just now, Ulquiorra?” Pantera’s wielder snarled, fixing the other Espada with a piercing glare.

“Just don’t go there and we won’t have any problems,” was the smaller man’s cryptic reply, right hand resting over the gothic tattoo on his chest.

And Grimmjow, being Grimmjow, really can’t just accept that as is. He sat up, setting his hands over both sides of Ulquiorra’s head, leaning further on his elbows.

“Stop acting like a bitch and answer me properly!” Grimmjow spat. “We’ve fucked around and now you’re stopping me from what? Taking a kiss? What the heck?!”

Ulquiorra’s lips thinned and he breathed deeply. “I… You wouldn’t–”

“Oh god damn it, Ulquiorra, I am fucking sick of you!”

Green eyes dilated at Grimmjow’s interruption.

“Do you have any idea of how frustrating it is, dealing with your shit?” Grimmjow exploded, shouting despite the fact that his partner was only a foot away. “I can’t understand you and it’s driving me crazy! I hate you and I hate that you fucking keep on looking down at me like trash! Oh wait – you DO see me as trash, you little bitch! Then WHY do you have to fucking come into my life like this? Why did you have to impose your stinking existence into my life so freaking much that I’ll grow insane if I don’t even know where you are at every hour of the day? Why do I have to lose myself over you? Why are we even consenting to fucking each other senseless?! If this is just another one of Aizen’s damned mind games then I don’t fucking want anything to–!”

“I want you.” Ulquiorra states simply, quietly… sincerely.

And Grimmjow’s rant stopped; his breaths heavy and his glare intense.

Pale hands rose to grasp the Sexta by the cheeks; gently, carefully, as if it was a ticking bomb that might explode at any moment. Sadness reflected in his steady gaze as he lowered the muscular man so that his pale face is covered by the other’s shadow.

“I want you, Grimmjow. I want you  _so_  much.” The jade-eyed man stated almost bitterly. “You ought to know that you’re not the only one losing his sanity here… and Aizen has nothing to do with this, I doubt that he would even bother.”

The superior Espada’s calm seem to be washing over Grimmjow as his frown became minimal as he listened to the other’s explanation.

Willowy fingers caressed the troubled face, the left hand eventually travelling to rake through the disheveled locks of electric blue hair.

“I want you, Grimmjow,” the pale one repeated; louder, assuring. “And I could care less of the trivialities as long as I have you… as long as you’re here… as long as you’re with me.” Dual-toned lips settled on the exposed left cheek. “But we just can’t cross certain boundaries so easily…” he breathed into the other man’s ear. “We are cold-blooded killers… heartless murderers… slaughterers of the innocent…” He paused, closing his eyes as though it would somehow lessen the pain.

“And this is lust.”

_And, really, that’s all that we can ever have._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Notes:_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (1) The first part, I recalled having watched in the anime… Where some Arrancars tried to steal the Hougyoku and killed this KyoukaSuigetsu!Ulquiorra before trying to invade Karakura… I know it’s a filler episode but the setting kinda appealed to me since it happened after Grimmjow lost his arm and before Inoue was taken to Las Noches… It’s a pretty good segue. :) 
> 
> (2) Quoted from Hirako Shinji, vol 27 of the manga. I thought it’d be tedious to write up the whole ‘invasion’ thing so I skipped most of it and went straight to the vital part. I hope nobody minded that… Ulquiorra has quite a monologue at the end there, too, but I took the liberty of cutting out the ‘sun has set’ part… That’s where I start my fiction….


	3. Part III

The chatter was loud as ten striking individuals waltzed into the high-ceilinged room, making their way towards a long table at the center. Exactly as the last man took his seat, tall doors from the opposite end of the room opened and in walked the three most powerful men in the realm.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the Espada,” Aizen Sousuke greeted his prized warriors. “We are under attack… but first, shall we have some tea?”

The detached calm from the brunet sent shivers down some of the Arrancars’ physique. Never had any of them heard someone proclaim such things so easily – brushing it off so carelessly as though he had just picked out the flavor of their tea for the day.

Nobody bothered to question why the renegade reaper insisted on serving them tea when none of them took time to drink it; a servant Arrancar eventually came around the table setting down steaming mugs of chamomile.

“Has the tea made its way around to everyone?” Aizen asked, taking his seat at the head of the table as Gin and Tousen stood behind him. Hearing no reply – and not expecting one, anyway– the brunet continued. “Now then… please listen while you drink…”

“Kaname, the visual, please…” The voice of their ‘Lord’ fills the whole hall; a mere reassertion of the man’s power over his subordinates – no one is allowed to speak unless Aizen says so.

The blind Soul Reaper obediently set to his task and the middle of the long table opened up, projecting an image from somewhere outside the castle, featuring three minuscule figures sprinting across the white sands.

“There are three intruders…” Aizen started; resting his chin on the back of one hand as he calmly faced the Espada. “Ishida Uryuu.” The projection closes in on a white-clad boy wearing glasses. “Sado Yasutora.” A big-boned man with a dark complexion. “Kurosaki Ichigo.” The orange-haired substitute reaper.

Grimmjow visibly bristled at the sight but no one paid him attention… openly, in any case.

“…These… are our enemies?” the Noveno’s two-toned mechanical voice asked.

“What the-?” Barragan exclaimed, his lined face looking none too pleased. “When you said we were under attack, I wondered what kind of people they were but they’re still youngsters!”

“They’re not the least bit… arousing…” golden-eyed Szayel Aporro drawled out, jadedly eyeing the presented visuals.

“Do not take them lightly,” Aizen admonished, “These are the humans formerly known as the ‘Ryoka’ – who, with just four people, marched into Soul Society and challenged the Thirteen Protection Squads to battle.”

“…You said four people,” Zommari queried, carefully choosing his words as he stared down at the projection still flashing in the middle of their table. “They’re short of one… Who’s missing?”

“Inoue Orihime,” Ulquiorra answered for their Lord. His green eyes met the Septima’s but it was in his peripheral vision where he paid more attention. The air around Grimmjow was starting to feel off.

“That means they came to save their friend, right?” Nnoitra picked up the conversation. “That’s great but they look so weak.”

“Did you not hear Aizen-sama?” the sole female in the Espada spoke up. “I believe he said not to take them lightly.”

“That’s not what I meant,” the Quinta directed a glare towards the woman on sitting to his left. “Don’t get testy. You scared or something?”

The silence of Halibel’s lack of reply was drowned with the clatter of a chair as one of their numbers abruptly stood.

All eyes were drawn to the aqua-haired Espada who was headed out the door without so much as a word to anyone. Aizen didn’t bat an eye as the Sexta brushed past him while the rest of the Espada shot cynical looks at their ‘brother’.

“Grimmjow, where are you going?” Kaname Tousen’s serious voice cut through the silence.

“To kill them,” Grimmjow replied sharply. “It’s best to crush insects quickly once they’ve gotten inside, right?”

“Aizen-sama has not given any orders yet,” the ex-9th division captain replied in a tone of forced calm. “Go back.”

“It’s on Aizen-sama’s behalf that I’m gonna crush them.” Grimmjow snarled.

“Grimmjow,” the Lord of Las Noches spoke – breaking the tense atmosphere that was building up between Soul Reaper and Arrancar.

“…Yes, sir?” Grimmjow gritted out.

“I am pleased that you would mobilize on my behalf but I’m still in the middle of talking.  For now, would you please return to your seat?”

The sapphire-eyed Espada turned around slightly, irises peering at the brunet from the corner of his narrowed eyes. He looked as though he was wondering if he could possibly Sonido his way out of the palace, outrunning even –

“What’s wrong?” Aizen’s cool voice cut off the Arrancar’s train off thought, inclining his head in the slightest to meet eye-to-eye with his minion. “I can’t hear you, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.”

From the rest of the Espada’s viewpoint, it was as though the Sexta’s knees gave in with the suddenness of their comrade’s fall. But they knew better. A barely noticeable surge of spiritual pressure swept through the room, it lasted for only for a millionth of a second but even from afar, they felt the impact of the force that bombarded Pantera’s wielder - bringing him down on his knees, instantly wiping the annoyed look on his face and replacing it with one of surprise before an all new level of fury settled in. Grimmjow’s harsh pants filled the hall as he glared at the renegade Soul Reaper who stood up and addressed his warriors.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Espada,” Aizen began – starting off with the age-old greeting that veiled his commands under the cool and conversational tone. The brunet’s soliloquy of his path with no enemies drew everyone’s eyes on his self – eyes focused and lips thinned to a line. He gave them his orders – lay back, do not attack – and dismissed them shortly after.

Grimmjow stayed glued to the floor as the rest of the Espada filed out of the room; he gritted his teeth, mentally cursing the megalomaniac Reaper. He still couldn’t move a muscle and the fact that Aizen held back the Cuatro to give him additional orders did nothing to soothe his rage.

“Ulquiorra, I entrust the task of taking care of our dear guest to you,” Aizen said lightly, his voice echoing in the still room. “I do believe such a trivial matter wouldn’t be much of a hassle.”

“Of course, Aizen-sama,” the jade-eyed Espada replied.

“Very well, I would expect that you check up on Miss Inoue regularly, we wouldn’t want any harm to come to her, after all.”

With that, Aizen proceeded to walk out of the room, Gin and Tousen finally moving from their posts and stepping up behind the brunet who walked past the Sexta as though he didn’t exist; the lights automatically shut off at their exit. As the trio’s footsteps faded away, Grimmjow slowly regained control of his body – slumping down on the floor and biting back a growl. He fisted his shaking hands, sapphire eyes cast down on the shadows of the room.

“Why must you always act so rashly?” Ulquiorra asked, approaching the inferior Arrancar. He tried his best to sound nonchalant but even in his own ears he sounded pissed.

Grimmjow raised his head, sapphires clashing with jades. He replied with a glare, straightening up and towering over the lithe form of the Cuatro. The reprimanding mien that the other wore wasn’t welcome and he was in no mood to hear anything out.

Black and white lips pursed tightly as he watched the tanned Espada stomp out of the room without a word. The porcelain face turned and jade eyes fell onto the meeting table in the middle of the room which was now half engulfed with shadow.

 

_…That substitute reaper._

Their three intruders multiplied into eight individuals when they finally broke into the main Palace – three reapers, three Arrancar defectors, a Quincy and a human – all willing to risk their lives for the sake of one girl. It had been a whole week since the day Aizen met his Espadas at the high-ceilinged room and the atmosphere in the West Wing of Las Noches was extremely edgy. (1)

The thought of possibly strong invaders coming to them certainly piqued more than one Espada’s interest despite most of the others’ attempt to hide it. After all, a promotion in rank was always welcome.

That was possibly why Ulquiorra wasn’t shaken in the slightest when Nnoitra suddenly cornered him, one night after he’d taken to his duties in looking after their human guest. The Quinta had been lewd, which was nothing new really, and Ulquiorra replied to the skinny man’s queries curtly before walking away. It killed five minutes, the whole (pointless) conversation, but in the end it wasn’t a huge loss, he didn’t have any other tasks to attend to tonight…

He was already at the corner, one corridor away from their guest’s ‘cell’, when he paused, sensing the spiritual presence of another Espada on the adjoined hallway.

… No task that he’d been briefed on beforehand, in any case.

“Quite a surprise to find you here, Grimmjow…” The whispered words pass through black and white lips as the Espada’s eyes slid shut.

There was a shift in energy as the Sexta’s spiritual pressure registered nearer. A soft ‘thump’ came from the other side and the sound of a deep exhale reached his ears. Ulquiorra sighed and flattened his back against the white-washed wall, knowing that the sapphire-eyed Espada carried the same posture on the other side.

“Well?” the lithe Espada questioned once the other failed to reply. “Is there a particular reason why you decided to leave your quarters this time of the night?”

“Just wanted to walk around,” the low murmur came from the around the corner.

“Really, now…” A hint of amusement laced the Cuatro’s voice.

“Well what the hell do you want me to say?” Grimmjow huffed, crossing his arms, blue eyes straying towards the corner between him and his superior.

“Nothing at all,” Ulquiorra replied, opening his eyes half-way and directing his gaze to his right. “Well then, I must be on my way. I assume you have a destination yourself and I do not wish to stall you any longer. Later, then, Grimmjow…” He put one foot forward, pushing himself off the wall but his foot hasn’t even touched the ground when a gust of cold night air blew against him and a calloused hand grabbed him by the elbow. He doesn’t even feign surprise at the other’s actions; instead he gave the taller man a small smile in greeting.

Grimmjow breathed out harshly, eyes wide and shining, confusion at his own action written all over his face.

Green irises stared back coolly as Ulquiorra turned to face the muscular man, raising his right arm – his hand gently touching the taller one’s left cheek.

The expression on the Sexta’s face calmed and his hand loosened its grip on the pale Arrancar. “Stop that,” he muttered, turning his face away from the other’s touch, taking a step backwards and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Drawing back his hand, Ulquiorra continued to stare up at his companion, waiting for an explanation of this untimely (but not unwelcome) visit.

“Nnoitra’s being a dick.” Grimmjow spat suddenly, sapphire eyes darting towards the opposite wall.

Ulquiorra raised a brow.

“Keeps saying stupid things recently,” the aqua-haired Espada continued, brows knitting together as his lips form a frown. “Motherfucker’s probably just screwin’ around with his words; given Aizen and his stinking directives about the intruders–”

“It’s about the woman, isn’t it?” the Cuatro pressed on, not having much patience for the other’s prevarications.

“I don’t believe his shit, you know. It’s a load of crap and–”

“You’re jealous.”

Grimmjow paused, his lips twisting into a tight frown. “I’m not.”

“Really?” Ulquiorra stepped closer.

“Do I have any reason to?” Grimmjow answered, meeting the jade-eyed gaze of the smaller Arrancar with the smallest hint of unease in his tone.

“No.” The Cuatro Espada placed a feather-light kiss on the Sexta’s jaw. “You’re just being stupid,” he whispered against the smooth skin.

And Grimmjow’s arm gradually slid around the Cuatro’s slim waist in an almost possessive hold.

_Soon everything will come crashing down… but until then…_

“Who is it?”

The silver-haired soul reaper inclines his head in wonder, rotating the chair he occupied to take a look at his guest. A small frown played on his lips as he surveyed his unusual visitor.

“Have they found their way into the palaces of the Espada?” the newcomer queried, surprisingly starting the conversation without a proper greeting as he stood a mere foot inside the room.

A grin found its way onto Gin’s lips as he leaned back in his seat, “You comin’ up an’ chattin’ with me… Well ain’t that a sight. You mean you don’t hate me?”

Ulquiorra closed his eyes, replying humbly, “Never.”

“Is that so?” Ichimaru asked with a wide smile, motioning for the Espada to come nearer with one bony hand. “If that’s the case then we oughta try gettin’ along better, eh, partner?”

The ebony-haired Espada slowly approached, eyeing the reaper’s handiwork on the control table as the latter continued to chat.

“I been lonely since Luppi went and died on me… Me and that kid, we used to talk and talk…” Gin nodded to himself.

“…What’s this?” Ulquiorra asked, green eyes trained on the bright crisscrossing lines upon the table.

The reaper’s smile grew wider. “Yep,” he said in a tone of accomplishment. “It’s alright.”

“The corridor controls,” jade-eyed Ulquiorra mused aloud, turning his gaze on the silver-haired man. “Are you…?”

“Oh no,” Aizen’s right-hand man answered with a coy smile. “It ain’t doin’ nothin’ mean like that…”

The detached look on the Cuatro Espada’s face almost slipped as the pointed face looked up at him wearing that eerie, disarming smile.

“’Sides,” Ichimaru grinned, the sinful glee in his tone sending a wave of unease over the pale Arrancar. “I just hate sad stories…”

Ulquiorra paused, an icy chill striking his figure. And in that instant, he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear receiving that look anymore. Twin pools of jade quickly averted towards the control table.

“Ya know,” Gin continued, his smile etching deeper into his features. “I do believe some of yer brothers have run out of patience… Are you aware?”

Bright green eyes stubbornly stayed glued onto the blinking light of the controls, black and white lips pressing together tightly as his fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm inside the loose pockets of his uniform.

“Oh but of course you are,” the fox-faced reaper answered his own question. “My bad… I shoulda asked ya if yer aware of what dear Szayel was fumin’ about earlier on…”

With a lack of reply from the Espada, the silver-haired man went on. “I just heard him whinin’ about it when I passed by his labs, ya know? And this thing I’mma be tellin’ you ‘s a secret.” His voice went down a notch as he leaned closer towards his companion. “The recording that he got on the Kurosaki kid… already surpassed his own…” (2)

Jade eyes snapped towards the grinning face unbidden, the shock he felt barely repressed in the expression he wore. “I have to go,” the Cuatro finally managed to speak, his voice terse. And with quick, deliberate steps, the slim figure was out of the door.

_I’m sorry, Grimmjow._

“Sleep with me.”

Sapphire eyes blinked down at the pale man’s porcelain face lit under moonlight.

The entire West Wing was silent, undisturbed save for occasional howling gust of cool air. The pair’s shadows were cast over the entirety of the hall leading towards the Sexta Espada’s chamber. Said Espada was speechless, standing like a statue behind the open door of his room.

His visitor, meanwhile, retained his solemn mien, jade eyes imploringly looking up to meet the taller man’s gaze.

Something’s wrong, his mind told him and for once Grimmjow agreed. He placed both hands on Ulquiorra’s shoulders, stooping to level his face with the smaller man’s. They stared at each other for long seconds until Grimmjow finally released the deep breath that he’d been holding in.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” the Sexta asked bluntly, wearing a skeptical look on his boyish face.

“Why do you think that?” Murcielago’s wielder replied, lifting his right hand. The smooth pale hand idly slid along the sun-kissed skin, eventually settling upon the back of Grimmjow’s right hand. Ulquiorra tilted his head to the right, leaning into their joined hands.

“Well, you just fucking came up and asked me to sleep with you.” Grimmjow replied flatly.

“Is that something new?” the jade-eyed man asked, entwining the fingers of their right hands before lifting Grimmjow’s hand off of his shoulder and pressing its palm against his lips.

“You never asked before.”

“…”

Grimmjow took control of his right hand and moved it to cup the Cuatro’s cheek, caressing the cool skin with his thumb – the smaller hand still attached. Twin pools of green gaze up at him from beneath thick dark lashes. Ulquiorra looked so unsure, it unnerved him more than he had ever thought possible.

“Ulquiorra…” Grimmjow carefully leaned towards his superior, their noses bumping together as he brought himself as near as possible without having their bone fragments collide. “Tell me what’s up, why don’t ya?” he whispered.

Blunt black-tipped fingers grip the tanned hand tighter against his cheek. “The intruders are nearing the main palace…” Ulquiorra finally admitted. He should at least speak a part of the truth, he reasoned with himself.

Grimmjow’s expression hardened slightly at the information but the smaller man continued before he could speak.

“And some of the Espadas have begun moving…”

Sapphire eyes strongly hold their jade counterparts as a small frown etched upon Grimmjow’s lips. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to read the expression in those endless pools of green – Ulquiorra looked troubled but that was impossible in itself. The impeccable Cuatro Espada wasn’t one to worry.

“We’re gonna kill ‘em all,” the aqua-haired Espada murmured in a tone of assurance – for Ulquiorra? for himself? He wasn’t sure but he felt that it just needed to be said.

Eyelids lower half-way over jade irises as a soft smile graced the Cuatro’s dual-toned lips. “We will,” Ulquiorra agreed, fluidly lifting both arms wrapping them around the Sexta’s neck. And in the next moment his eyes are shut and his lips had settled on the corner of Grimmjow’s mouth.

Once Ulquiorra reopened his eyes, he found Grimmjow wearing a content smirk and they proceed inside without another word.

_I’m truly very sorry._

Muddy blue eyes blink open, adjusting themselves to the darkness… to the cold. The hot breath on his neck was gone, so was the slim figure curved over his side and the nimble fingers entwined with his own – the locks of silky ebony hair, the smooth porcelain skin melding into him, the soft lips pressing onto his skin, the dulcet whisperings of his name – all gone.

Grimmjow abruptly sat up, eyes wide and confused. He surveyed the shadowed surroundings – the wrinkled bed sheets, the stains, all his clothing scattered on the floor. There was nobody else.

A sinking feeling engulfed the muscular man as he pulled away the sheets and slipped out of the bed; all its warmth had already seeped out hours ago. His eyes glowed under the shadows as he made a beeline towards a closet at the corner, plucking out a pair of clothes similar to the ones on his floor. Something wasn’t right. A big something wasn’t fucking right. Ulquiorra never left him asleep and the fact that he couldn’t feel his superior’s spiritual signature anywhere nearby only made his foul mood worsen.

He marched out of his quarters wearing a glare on his face, hands fisted inside his pockets. He couldn’t be bothered to check what time it was, or how long he had been asleep. His mind was zeroed in on one goal: finding Ulquiorra. And the longer it took to find him, the more insecurity crept up on his mind.

“Motherfucking…” Grimmjow had taken to growling curse words under his breath as he stalked the countless halls of Las Noches. He had already walked around at least a fourth of the whole area but there was still no trace of Murcielago’s wielder. All of a sudden, he paused in mid-step. Muffled shouting came from the hallway he had just passed, pale blue brows furrowed further as he realized where his feet brought him and the probability of where the sounds were coming from. Frowning tightly, Grimmjow backtracked and silently sauntered over towards the noise-emitting room. He could feel three people inside – the human girl and two others, Arrancars. His chest tightened. Ulquiorra wasn’t among them. But, his mind added, it wasn’t like Ulquiorra to disregard direct orders from Aizen. And by his memory, he recalled that their megalomaniac overlord ordered for the human girl to be treated nicely – the sounds of smacks and punches from their guest’s chamber told an entirely different story. Ulquiorra should’ve been there to prevent that – but he wasn’t – and Grimmjow didn’t think he could burn with anymore anger but he did.

Something was definitely fucking wrong.

A fist was raised, made to knock on the concrete door but there was a sudden spark of cognition that flared in his mind. The orange-haired soul reaper’s spiritual presence had dropped; he’d been taking a sort of tab on it ever since Aizen had announced the boy’s presence, waiting for when he would be allowed to settle their score but now… The substitute reaper’s spiritual signature was fading away and with it was another familiar character close by… a much too familiar character. (3)

_Ulquiorra._

Canines gritted together harshly. Realization hitting him with a jolt.

_God damn that motherfucking little asswipe to hell._

A murderous glare fitted on the handsome face. His spiritual force flared as his anger rose, his fists shoved rashly into his pockets, sapphire pools ablaze.

The substitute reaper’s presence completely evaporated from his radar and the door to the woman’s chamber exploded.

_I should’ve known._

“What are you doing, Grimmjow?” Ulquiorra’s tone was cold, bright green irises livid underneath the poised air that he carried. He passively inspected the scene and found four pairs of eyes looking at him – four, a number one more than what he had expected. The orange-haired reaper was breathing, breathing and staring at him from underneath a concave bright orange glow and that wasn’t right – he _did_  just kill off the guy a few minutes prior. His eyes met with twin blue orbs.

“What’s the matter? I’m asking you… What do you think you are doing going out of your way to heal the injuries of an enemy I defeated?”

Nobody spoke a word as the surprised look from the auburn-haired woman turned into something very much close to shame. Grimmjow was determinedly staring down at the superior Espada; a confused hatred swimming in his eyes.

“Not going to answer? Very well… In any event, that woman has been placed in my care by Aizen-sama, so hand her over.” His voice was commanding – as commanding as he could manage in spite of the pang of guilt that he could feel nagging at a considerable portion of his psyche.  He knew that it would come to this, he knew it the moment he stepped out of the Sexta’s chamber, this was bound to happen but he still slipped out and killed off the substitute reaper. He might’ve been hoping that Grimmjow wouldn’t react too drastically but maybe he’d been too optimistic.

“Go fuck yourself.” Grimmjow’s face hid nothing – not his irritation, not his great ire, he was pissed off and that was exactly what he conveyed in his expression and words.

“…What did you say?” Jade irises narrow, he knew what was about to happen; it wasn’t really difficult to figure it out.

“…What’s up with you?” The Sexta’s voice lowered a notch as his gaze momentarily dropped as though he’s strengthening his resolution. It lasted for a mere second before Pantera’s wielder raised his eyes, a feral expression masking his face. “You’re awfully chatty today, Ulquiorra!”

Grimmjow charged forward, swinging out his right hand which Ulquiorra promptly blocks with the back of his left hand. Green met blue and the moment their hands touch lasted longer that what should’ve been allowed.

“I get it, Ulquiorra,” the aqua-haired Espada leered, seeing indecision swimming in his superior’s eyes. “You’re scared to fight me – scared to crush each other.” The Sexta’s blue zero charged up directly against the pale knuckles and Ulquiorra wisely jumped back but Grimmjow pressed forward.

“Ha! Repelled it, huh?” Sapphire eyes flashed as the smoke cleared and he saw the Cuatro’s slender figure just a few feet away. “Of course this isn’t going to be over with just one at–”

Grimmjow’s words stopped as Ulquiorra vanished from sight and he felt the latter’s spiritual signature above him. The Sexta looked up to find Ulquiorra pointing a black-tipped finger at the top of his head – a green cero waiting to be fired at its tip. Not wasting a second, Grimmjow hoisted up his own hand, charging his own cero. The bright light from both ceros was nearly blinding but the two Espadas still saw eye to eye.

The top of the nearest pillar explodes sending debris and smoke into the air surrounding them.

Ulquiorra’s jade eyes flitted wildly in the smoke, but he failed to detect the Sexta until Grimmjow reappeared behind him – swinging out an arm and grabbing the collar of his jacket. Some of the smoke were whisked away by the movement, allowing him a peek of Grimmjow’s face –  _handsome, angry, confused…_

The warm, calloused hand hovered over the Cuatro’s throat. Bright green eyes darted down to find a small box floating into his hollow hole and realization dawned too late for the ebony-haired Espada.

Grimmjow mutely drew back his arm and in a flash of light, no trace was left of the jade-eyed Ulquiorra.

Cloudy sapphire eyes stared for moment longer before turning back…

… _Guilty._  


The sound of breaking glass reverberates in the cold, high-ceilinged throne room as a pale hand broke through dimensions. Head bowed, the lithe figure of Ulquiorra Cifer stepped out of the dimensional rip, inclining his head in the slightest towards Aizen – the man standing just outside his own Garganta, on the point of leaving Hueco Mundo to begin his assault on the town of Karakura.

“Of course,” the Cuatro’s monotone voice answered promptly to his Lord’s latest assignment - a pointless answer that needed to be said just so that the Garganta would finally close.

He sensed another presence in the room behind him but it isn’t the one that he was looking for. He briefly closed his eyes and felt around the whole perimeter of Las Noches; battles raging everywhere, Soul Reapers versus Arrancars and he’d expected as much, however… Jade eyes shot open and his chest seems to cave in on his lungs, his breathing hitched and he pursed his lips tighter.

“He is dying…” the jade-eyed man whispered to himself, looking down at his sorry reflection on the smooth black floor. His reflection returned his gaze with deadened eyes.

Light steps echoed in the room and he fixed his mien, putting on an emotionless front before looking up at the human woman.

She stared back at him with gray-hued irises, defiant but with a tinge of something else.

“Are you afraid?” the Espada asked, breaking the awful silence that’s filling his ears.

The auburn-haired woman replied in the negative. He scoffed at her nonsense and she responded with a long-winded explanation that passed through his hearing without making sense.

“…That’s right,” Orihime continued her monologue with a soft smile, eyes darting to the side as she was reminded of her friends’ efforts. “There might not be a way to feel the exact same thing as someone else but if that person is important to you, you can leave a bit of your heart with them. I’m sure of it now,” her voice gained a lighter tone. “That’s what it means for hearts to beat as one.”

Ulquiorra was silent, unwilling to admit that somehow her last words were a slight bit sensible in some far corner of his mind.

“A heart?” he questioned in a carefully guarded tone. “You humans speak that word so easily, as though it’s something that you can hold in your hands.” He took a step closer. “Those that I do not see, do not exist – I have fought this far knowing that. What is a heart?” A pale hand was raised swiftly, pointing towards the human. “Will I find it if I rip open your chest? Will I find it if I crack open your skull?”

The woman’s gaze turned startled and he wondered if she was actually threatened but there it is again… that strange look mixed in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Inoue mumbled quietly, earnestly.

“I do not recall asking you to apologize,” Ulquiorra coldly remarked, taking back his hand.

Gray eyes lift to meet his green ones, and he finally registers her expression.

Pity.

“Kurosaki-kun didn’t want to finish him off,” Orihime began, bravely holding the Espada’s gaze. “But one your numbers, the one called Nnoitra… He just suddenly came and dealt a blow.”

Jade eyes widened in surprise. He had not asked for this. The composed look on his pale face flickers for a second.

And suddenly, the wall behind him crashes – bidding the arrival of Kurosaki Ichigo.

The woman’s look of surprise mirrored the Arrancar’s. And Ulquiorra inwardly berated himself for wishing that the substitute Soul Reaper had arrived later – wishing that he could still ask the woman a few questions, wishing that he could instead leave this place and rush towards a certain Espada’s side, wishing for things that weren’t natural to him… things that should have had a lower spot on his priorities list but were adamantly stuck at the top.

_…But then again, as if I could ever show my face to you now._

The glaring artificial sun and white sands irritated his wounds… well, not all of them were white. His blood stained those in his immediate surroundings, dyeing pure white with crimson. Even the task of breathing took a lot out of him – which isn’t a surprise really, he knew his body was beaten up to the core. What surprised him was that he was still surviving until now…

Weary lids slid shut over unseeing sapphire eyes, doubling the feeling of the dark spiritual force that had come in tidal waves all over Las Noches.

Ulquiorra had returned. Ulquiorra was fighting Kurosaki Ichigo. Ulquiorra… had released the second stage of his Resurrecion.

It didn’t take long for the substitute reaper to drag out another impossible feat, he felt him release a disturbing wave of spiritual pressure – more powerful, more sinister, more hollow-like than ever.

And Ulquiorra still fought. He was never one to back down… He was a fighter, through and through… He was…

Ulquiorra…

The same old feeling returned. Grasping him in its sharp claws, squeezing the breath out of his chest, draining him of every drop of strength that was left in his battered body, pushing away all thought from his mind save for one image. The one that he’d never let go.

Porcelain skin under silver moonlight – the eyes that gleamed like precious jade stones – the silent exaltations of his name – the lips that never did claim his own…

A last shuddering breath passes through the tanned lips and all is quiet save for the howling wind dragging black ashes into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Notes:_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (1) I decided to go with involving the anime subplot of that underground Hueco Mundo-thing… the Menos Forest stuff, I believe. Gives a longer time for our dear Espadas to brew… I didn’t think they’d eagerly disobey Aizen if Kurosaki’s group had instantly gotten into the Palace… so yeah, more time for itching for a battle.
> 
> (2) Bleach Vol.29, pages 75-80/The start of chapter 255 – Szayel ordered the Exequias on Dordonh just after his defeat, courtesy of Kurosaki, so he could analyze the substitute reaper’s reiatsu. What I wrote ISN’T really what the Octava found out, it’s just an assumption. :)
> 
> (3) I’ve always wondered why Ulquiorra went out of his way to kill off Kurosaki the first time when he never could go against Aizen’s orders. Hide secrets, yes, but disobey, never. So~ I thought there must be a hidden agenda. x)
> 
>  
> 
> … I totally screamed when I finished this (well, a suppressed scream, anyway) and then I cried tears of joy and then I dropped dead. Hello sunrise~! :D
> 
> Lot’s of love to everybody~!!


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